


Mark's New Flat

by junkieboyfriend



Category: Trainspotting (Movies), Trainspotting Series - Irvine Welsh
Genre: Adultery, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bromance to Romance, Cheating, Come Eating, Crying, Cum Eating, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Gay, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Many many gay thoughts, Masturbation, Mentions of Death, PTSD, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Relapsing, Scary Simon, Sharing Needles, Spanking, Toxic Masculinity, angry drunk Simon, baby Dawn, emotional immaturity, messy snogging, predatory behavior, territorial Simon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25317958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junkieboyfriend/pseuds/junkieboyfriend
Summary: Mark's got a new flat and he's back on the drug scene after a few months of silence.Simon won't go unnoticed.
Relationships: Alison Lozinska/Simon "Sick Boy" Williamson, Mark "Rent Boy" Renton/Simon "Sick Boy" Williamson, Thomas "Tommy" MacKenzie/Lizzy, Thomas "Tommy" MacKenzie/Mark "Rent Boy" Renton
Comments: 32
Kudos: 55





	1. Mark's New Flat

Mark Renton had just gotten his own apartment, content with finally escaping his family home. It wasn’t much; it was a place that sellers tried to class up by calling it a “studio apartment”. Well “studio apartment” really meant it was just one fucking room with a bathroom. Mark had acquired a bed, a couch, a small table, and a television. The kitchen was already set up but it lacked any food, dishes, or cutlery. 

He was content with how things were right now, considering that he was new and that he could accumulate more later. Mark laid out on the bed; it was a nice place but he felt oddly lonely, even if his only prior company had seemingly been bad company. For now Mark laid in his bed, leaving everything to be unpacked tomorrow as he nodded off. 

\---

The following morning Mark began unpacking his record collection and player, deciding to bring them along with him. Renton slipped on a record and began putting up his clothes and other belongings. He knew he’d have to go shop for dishes and cutlery soon, but for now he savored the new aura of his apartment; something that was definitively his and no one else’s. 

After his belongings had been put away, Renton was off to the store. As he was searching he managed to bump into Spud who looked very tired.

“Aye, Spud, how’s it gaein’?” Renton inquired,  
Spud yawned, pointing behind him with his thumb, “Ah’m here wih Alley, she’s wantin’ tae buy new curtains fer thae gaf.”  
Mark perked up, “Yes bought a new gaf?”  
Spud nodded, “Aye.”  
“Me too.” He somewhat chirped

Spud reached back and stretched, his spine letting out a horrid cracking sound. The lanky man sighed with relief and smiled warily at Renton.

“Where ‘round?” He inquired, quirking his brow

Mark began to raddle off landmarks and then gave the number of his apartment. Spud smiled and began to do the same in return. Soon Ally was approaching them, wrapping her arms around Spud from behind him, leaning to the left a bit to look at Mark. 

“Aye whit ye lads oan aboot?” She inquired  
Spud pointed to Mark, “He’s goat a new gaff tae, over by thae corner jus’ past thae coffee shoap.”  
Ally grinned at Mark, “Congratulations! ‘S nae easy.”

Mark nodded in reply; the couple quickly saying their goodbyes and departing. Renton found some dishes and silverware to his liking, paying and leaving swiftly. 

Renton arrived home and sighed as he began to fill his cupboards and drawers with his findings from the shop. Although this problem had been solved, Mark quickly realized he has an empty pantry and an empty refrigerator. He sighed and relented, ordering a takeout and eating it messily on his couch. Nothing particularly good was on the TV but Mark watched it anyway, the noise comforted him in an odd way. 

Mark had been on a tolerance break for a while now and he’d considered making it permanent, but he really didn’t think his last shot was a ‘final hit’. As Mark lay, once again, alone and a bit cold in his empty gaf, he decided he’d visit Mother Superior tomorrow after he went grocery shopping. 

\---

The ginger groaned as he awoke to the sun shining in his eyes; he turned over and sighed, knowing he would have to rise. Mark dressed quickly and dragged himself to the grocery store. Renton didn’t feel much like paying today so he nicked most of the things he wanted. He’d made it out with some bread, milk, peanut butter, and a package of cheese slices. Mark was surprised he could steal so much but he wasn’t going to question it or turn back, food was essential. 

Mark dropped the groceries off at his house before readying himself to go to Mother Superior’s den. As the cold air nipped at him he was still unsure of his readiness to face Swanney, but he would press on regardless; skag made things like readiness unimportant. 

Renton knocked twice and was greeted not long after, Swanney appearing in a vest and some shorts. He hadn’t seen Mark in a few months and was surprised he was back unannounced.

“Aye, Mark.” he spoke, still looking quizzically at him  
Mark smiled, “Aye Swanney, can Ah come in?”

Swanney returned the smile and stepped away from the door, allowing Mark inside. Renton followed Swanney into the den, where Sick Boy and Second Prize lay. The ginger hadn’t seen Sick boy in a long while. Simon was much too caught up in schemes and birds to be interested in him right now. Mark slipped Swanney his cash and requested some gear, Mother Superior left for the kitchen and quickly returned with Mark’s skag. 

They all sat on the floor together and Mark shot up, feeling the most intense pleasure there was and falling onto his back. It was buzzing in his veins, ruining his brain, rotting his body, and giving him the best experience there was to offer. Who needed anything more? 

He was incomprehensible for a long long while until suddenly Mark was aware it was night now. Second Prize had vanished and Simon was sitting up, his back resting against the wall. Mark sat up now, stretching his back before hunching again. Simon was looking at Renton with an unreadable gaze, there was an odd tension between them and Mark didn’t exactly know why.

Simon and Mark hadn’t spoken in the time Mark had decided to take a tolerance break, maybe his sudden disappearance made Sick Boy cross with him. Abandonment, it was enough to make Simon bitter. Mark attempted to communicate for the first time in hours; 

“Si.” he pathetically mumbled  
Simon gave him a tight and ingenuine smile, “Welcome back, Rents.”

Mark realized quite quickly Simon was unhappy, that typically happens when the skag wears off and you come back to reality. Renton still decided to try and talk to him a bit. 

“Where ye stayin’?” He inquired  
Simon wrinkled up his nose, “Ma ma’s at thae moam.”  
“Tell ‘er Ah sais hi.” Mark grinned  
“Like hell.” Simon murmured.

The ginger was unsure if he wanted to tell the blond of his new apartment, fearing Sick Boy would move himself in. 

“An’ where are yew stayin’?” Simon inquired  
Mark looked away nervously, “Ah’m daein’ a bit ay’ couch hoppin’ now but Ah dae go tae ma ma’s e’ry now an’ then.”

Sick Boy looked Renton up and down but nodded in belief. It sounded sound enough and Mark had gotten oddly good at lying, playing things off. This was an acquired skill that came along with being a junky. 

After sitting around on Swanney’s floor for another hour or so, Mark pulled himself up onto his feet. The ginger said his goodbyes to Sick Boy and Swanney before leaving for his apartment. 

\---

Once home Mark quickly fell onto his bed, slipping off his shoes without using his hands, and curling up. Whatever horrible thing happened next, at least Mark knew it’d have to wait until tomorrow. This thought comforted him into a warm, comforting sleep. 

\---

Renton awoke with a start, his alarm clock blaring, and he sighed. He’d had his first bad dream in his new apartment. Well, he wouldn’t say it was necessarily bad but it was certainly unusual. Mark quickly got up and dressed himself for work, not exactly hating his job but not really loving it either. Working was just something you did so you could afford a house and, in Mark’s case, skag.

When he came home that evening he found something weird at his front door; flowers. There was a basket of flowers with a little card stuck in them. Mark scrunched up his nose at them, this must be a mistake. Regardless, Mark went inside and took the basket with him. He set them down on his coffee table and plopped down on his couch. The poor fucker who sent these must’ve fucked up the apartment number or something, but Mark found some chocolate hidden in the bottom and decided he’d keep them anyway. A fucker who sends sappy shit like this deserved to have it stolen right from under his poofty nose, as far as Mark’s concerned anyway.

Renton reached over and picked up the card, his mouth gaping slightly as he saw “Mark” scribbled on the envelope. Now this was really weird. Mark opened the envelope, and observed the strange pink card hidden inside it. The front of it was some generic love card bullshit but when he opened it there was a hand-written note addressed to him, reading:

Dear Mark,  
I haven’t seen you in so long, my heart aches for you. I wish you would come after me but I know you want me nowt. However, if you wish to know who I am, come to me tonight at 21.00 at the Port Sunshine.  
-xoxo, with love, your anonymous lover

Mark couldn’t believe his eyes. What woman had looked at him and thought this was what he needed? Mark wondered if she was blind or deaf or maybe both. He huffed at the card, finding the prospect of going down to a stranger because of this stupid basket distasteful… Although he didn’t have any other plans for the evening. He sighed, deciding even if he didn’t hit up the girl he could get some drinks. 

\--

Renton entered the bar after flicking his cigarette to the ground and mashing it with his foot. He wasn’t dressed ‘proper’ but he did look a bit nicer than usual. Mark’s eyes scanned around for any signs of a woman looking in his direction. He wasn’t surprised to find none of them looking his way; figures. 

Mark did, however, spot Simon at the bar, looking at him. Mark approached him, taking a seat beside him in favor of continuing to search for Ms. Mystery lady. Simon looked Mark up and down, noticing he’d dressed a bit nicer, smelled a bit less like vomit, and had been looking around like he was searching for something. Simon grinned in knowing, Mark seemingly not noticing the maliciousness hidden behind such a grin. 

“Whit ye daein’ here, Mark?” Simon inquired,  
Mark sighed, “Lookin’ fer a bird but Ah dun think she’s even here.”  
“Oh really?” Simon’s grin grew wider, “Ye had a date?”  
Renton tensed a bit, “Ah dunnae ken if Ah’d call it thit but-”  
“Heh, sae Ah goat yer address right.” Simon remarked almost casually

Time seemed to stop as he said it, reality smacking him across the face. There was no girl, no secret admirer, Simon wanted to make sure he’d found Mark’s address and he knew Mark didn’t want him to know it. Sneaky, smart bastard. 

“Ye fuckin’ sent us thit ye cunt?!” Mark exclaimed in outrage  
Simon chuckled at Mark’s embarrassment, “Ah ken ye were lyin’ aboot where ye were stayin’.”  
“Sae how’d ye find us?” Renton inquired  
Sick Boy smirked a bit, “Ally told us.”

The blond traced the rim of his drink, his gaze quickly dropping to the dark brown liquid residing in the glass. His demeanour changed slightly, his voice and aura seeming to quiet down a bit. 

“Ah wanted ta ken if Ah could stey the night mibbe.” Simon asked  
Mark gave him a look, this was his apartment, “I dunnae ken, Si.”  
“C’moan, Mark, Ah dun have nae fuckin’ where else the night. Ah willnae stey long.” Simon bargained.

This was a lie though, the reality was that Simon missed Mark terribly. No one got along with him like Mark did. No one had that same Mark Renton fire in their heart.

Mark relented, it was just tonight, “Awrite, Si.”  
“Thank ye, Rents, Ah promise tae be nae trouble.” Simon said  
Renton rolled his eyes and waved his hand defensively, “Yeah, yeah.”

After a few drinks and some light banter Mark and Simon headed off back to Mark’s flat. They smoked a cigarette on the way and intentionally spoke too loudly about offensive topics to piss off some old wifies passing by. 

Mark was laughing maniacally as one of them gasped rather loudly, “Why I never.”  
“Eat yin, ye old sack a shite!” He spat back, sticking out his tongue and giving them the finger

The wifies mumbled in shock and horror, quickly averting their gaze and rushing off in the opposite direction. 

\--

The two arrive at Mark’s apartment, Simon looking around quickly noting the place is a studio apartment and smirks.

“Nice place, Rents.” Sick Boy compliments, patting Mark on the shoulder.

The two plop on the couch, Mark flipping on the television as Simon began to rummage through the pockets in his jacket. Renton glanced over at the blond, cocking an eyebrow at him. Sick Boy ignores the look and finally sighs as he pulls out a small tin container. Mark furrows his brows at Simon even more as the blond puts it on the table.

“Brought yis a present, consider this a wee house-warmin’ gift.” Simon remarked  
He opened the small tin container to reveal some hash, some paper, and a lighter. Mark grinned at it; it’s the best gift he’d gotten since the table. 

“Si, thit might just be the nicest thing ye’ve dun fer us.” Mark said  
Simon glanced over his shoulder at Mark as he rolled the joints, “Dun mention it.” 

There was a sarcastic bite to the phrase but Mark smiled and pressed on.

“Ye roll thit fer us?” Mark asked, pointing to the joint Simon was finishing up  
Simon glanced at the ginger again, “Aye.” he spoke, quickly finishing it and handing it to Mark  
“Who sais chivalry ‘s dead.” Mark teased, taking the joint and reaching for the lighter  
Simon gives him a look as he started on his own joint, “Shut yir gob, ye poof.” 

Mark grins, maybe a sleepover would be fun after all.


	2. That Didnae Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> that didnae happen, ye're just high

Mark awoke in the dead of the night to a light shining on his face from the bathroom. The clock on his nightstand said three a.m. and, man, did it feel like it. Renton threw the covers off of himself and stumbled his way into the bathroom to check out the scene. 

As he opened the door he found Simon sitting on the closed lid of the toilet seat with a belt strapped around his arm and a spoon on the sink, trying to fish something out of his pocket. Mark furrowed his brows at Simon ‘who the fuck wakes up in the middle ‘ay the night an’ fancies a shoat?’ he thought.

“Si, what ye daein’ man?” Mark asked, his voice groggy from sleep.

Simon perked up and noticed Mark in the doorway instantly, he seemed to pause at the sound of Mark’s voice though. The blond looked him up and down before scoffing at him.

“Thae fuck’s it look like, Mark? Ah’m takin’ a fuckin’ hit.” Simon responded  
Mark rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, “Nae hit if ye cannae get it oot yer pockit.”

Simon scowled at Mark who just grinned evilly back. Still, as Mark watched him, he found himself wanting a shot too. He bit at his bottom lip as he watched Simon load the spoon, his nerves whittling away at him as he found himself being the smackhead who wanted a hit at three in the fucking morning. Sick Boy glanced at him, seeing Mark’s watchful eyes grow hungry. They both knew.

Mark fiddled with his thumbs before nervously and quietly asking, “Si, can Ah-”  
“Aye, c’moan then.” Simon motioned for him to approach

Renton came further into the bathroom, switching places with Simon and having his belt fastened around his arm. Then a sudden realization hit Mark.

“Aye, ah forgot ma gear in the nightstand.”  
“‘s nae bother.” Simon shrugged  
Mark furrowed his brow, “But Si, thae needle.”  
“Mark, we’ve shared needles before.” He spoke

Simon gave Mark an almost romantic gaze as he traced the ginger’s veins with his finger.

“Ma blood runs in yer viens, Mark.” He nearly whispered

It was strangely intimate and penetrating, Mark’s chest felt heavy as his eye grew lidded. He looked dazed by the touch of Sick Boy’s fingers forever tracing his veins, almost mindlessly like they’ve been there before. All the tenseness, the nervousness, and unsurety seemed to melt away at the odd form of comforting Sick Boy gave. 

“Aye. dae it, then.” Mark replied, his voice oddly soft. 

Simon didn’t respond, instead he continued to fix up the shot, he then approached between Mark’s legs, looking down at the ginger. Sick Boy kneeled to be on Mark’s level, taking his arm and smacking up a vein. Mark bit his lip with anticipation, Simon stopping when he saw it. 

“Ye okey, Rents?” He asked  
Mark felt his cheeks heat up a bit, “Aye, just a wee bit nervous.”   
“Nervous? Mark ye took this shite in yer baws.” Simon asked incredulously   
Mark blushed harder; he didn’t know Simon knew about that, “‘S different wih someyin else daein’ it.” 

Sick Boy rolled his eyes and restarted his search for a vein. The vein was easier to draw out this time and Simon readied the needle against Mark’s skin. 

“Ready?”   
“Aye.”

And that was all it took. Soon Mark’s blood was flooded with ecstasy and he had to grab Simon’s shoulder to steady himself. This shit was good. Renton moaned at the feeling rushing through him and Simon started, his eyes lingering on Mark and his agape mouth. The sound that erupted its way out of Mark’s throat made Simon feel fuzzy. Had he always been so attractive when he was high? 

They shared a look as Mark grabbed onto Simon to keep himself steady.

“‘S it any good?” Simon inquired  
Mark grinned, “‘S fuckin’ braw.”  
“Lovely.” Simon whispered

Mark hadn’t realized it, but Simon was much closer now. Just as Mark went to question Simon the blond had already grabbed Mark’s face and was kissing him. Renton tried to be surprised but the heroin buzzing in his veins complicated things. Mark let out a surprised gasp but had otherwise been responsive to Simon’s kissing. The blond had soft lips and it had been a long time since anyone had given Renton this kind of attention, he hated to admit he craved it. Even though Mark couldn’t seem to move his arms he showed his interest by leaning into Simon and letting out pleasured noises. 

Simon snaked his hands up Mark’s shirt, touching the sensitive skin that lay beneath his finger tips. Mark shivered at the feather-light touches, feeling more explored than he ever had; Sick Boy’s eyes looked hungry for exploration - or maybe conquest. Simon says nothing as his hand ventures down into Mark’s boxers, quickly making the moves on him. Renton whimpers and moans at the touch, he shouldn’t be feeling this much when he’s so fucked up. 

Bite marks are beginning to show up on Renton’s hand as he uses it to stifle his noises. He’s coming undone quickly, Sick Boy knows what he’s doing and Renton cannot help but give in. He feels his hips beginning to stutter and finally finds the strength to lock his fingers in the back of Simon’s hair. He couldn’t believe Simon was actually touching him like this, his eyes were about to roll back in his head. 

“Nf, S-Simon.” Mark stuttered out, his eyes shutting as it got to be too much

He was going quicker, using his wrist just right, gripping just enough, and Mark’s toes were beginning to curl. The blush was sweeping all across his face and there was no stopping the rush. Renton grabbed Simon’s shoulder harshly, gritting his teeth and he groaned.

“Oh god, Simon!” 

A gasp is shared between the two of them when Simon pulls away. The blond then stood up, wiping his hand on his pajama pants and beginning to cook himself up a hit.

“That didnae happen Mark, ye’re just high.” Sick Boy stated  
Mark nodded wearily, “Aye, it didnae.” 

Simon took the belt from Mark’s arm, sitting on the side of the bathtub as he prepared to shoot up. Mark dazedly watched Simon inject himself, the moan erupting from his throat sounded so good it should be illegal. Mark gave his own whimper of approval. Simon didn’t notice though, he sank down to the floor, leaning against the bathtub. 

For once they had a good and early morning.


	3. Ye Fuckin’ Did What Wih Ma Jackit?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon leaves his jacket over and Mark does some unsavoury things to it.

The following morning Simon left and, although he thought he’d be happy, Mark was horribly lonely. Once again he was alone in his sad studio apartment. Without Sick Boy there it felt so cold, so wrong, so out of place. He hated the place he’d previously seen as a haven. Now it was hell. Now it was a cage. 

He wanted to call Sick Boy, call him and beg him to come back. However, Mark refused, looking away from the phone and digging his nails into the palms of his hands. He was much too proud to beg - especially to beg Sick Boy. 

Still, after that hit in the bathroom, Mark couldn’t help thinking of Simon. He missed him, he yearned for him. He’d managed to avoid it for a while, but now that he was back the blond had him again. Sick Boy had him like he used to, wrapped around his fucking finger. He was intoxicated by the Italian, feeling a horrible, sickening attraction. He wasn’t sure why Simon decided to do what he had, but he wanted answers and he wanted more. 

Mark spent his day smoking the rest of the weed that Sick Boy had given him as a present. He neglected his phone the entire day, he doubted Simon would call and if Simon wasn’t calling he didn’t give a toss. As Mark sunk into the couch, he glanced over and spotted Sick Boy’s jacket; he’d left it behind on accident. Mark picked it up and inspected it, it looked clean, he leaned in and sniffed it, humming in contentment at the scent. It smells like him. Mark fully sunk into the couch, holding the jacket up to his face and sniffing it happily. 

He felt an odd stirring in the pit of his stomach as he buried his face in the fabric, letting out a quiet hum. Then, as Mark looked down he realized he was sporting a rather large erection. 

“Jesus.” He quietly gasped.

Mark quickly tossed the jacket away from him on the other end of the couch. He really should call Sick Boy to come get it back. As Renton picked up the phone, a thought ran through his head: 

‘Or I could just keep it’ 

As much as the thought appealed to him, he didn’t want to humor this ‘gay’ side of himself. Renton called Simon and sat smoking a blunt, annoyed that his friend was so careless with his expensive ass - probably stolen - clothes. He felt his heart sink as Simon didn’t pick up, it went to voicemail. Mark called twice more but there was no answer. 

He sighed and sunk himself into the sofa, his eyes flickering up to the movie on the TV. A small smirk threatened the edges of Mark’s mouth, it was James Bond. Even though Mark didn’t really fancy the movies and found them to actually be quite lacking in the story area, he smiled because it reminded him of Simon. It made him feel less alone. How queer.

As the day pressed on the pressure got heavy on Mark’s body; he needed a fucking hit. As Mark was getting dressed for Swanney’s, he glanced at the jacket again. He decided to put it on instead of his old ratty one; Simon always took better care of his things so they were always nicer. Then, it was off to Mother Superior’s den.

\---- 

When Mark arrived at the Den it was desolate except for Swanney. Mark exchanged some of his recent earnings for a shot. He let Swanney do it, his big, capable hands were oddly familiar and calming. Then, as the needle is pulled out of his skin, he feels himself begin to sink to the floor. He is flooded with pleasure, euphoria, and bliss. Nothing in this moment matters, nothing except the way this drug is making him feel. 

Mark leaned against the wall, sunken down almost laying on the floor. His arm was laying out beside him and he watched as Swanney rose from the carpet. The old man smiled whimsically at Mark before saying something unintelligible and turning to leave - Mark wasn’t sure if it was actually unintelligible or if he was just high - but he returned the smile and the nod as he watched Swanney disappear out of the flat. 

The scent of Simon’s jacket was growing ever more distracting to Mark; the ginger brought the sleeves to his nose for a long sniff. He hummed contently and began to sniff more; even with the skag coursing through his veins, he felt his cock becoming interested in the very nice scent. Renton hesitantly slipped his hands into his boxers, rubbing his cock with one sleeve as he sniffed the other, 

Renton’s head rolls back at the intoxicating scent, the skag making him feel closer and closer to climax. Renton bit harshly onto his hand as he inhaled the sweet, masculine scent. He moaned and panted against his hand until he felt his hips beginning to stutter. 

“Ah! Ah! Nnf uh fuck-.” Renton huffed against his hand as his hips rolled and stuttered against his own pace.

Mark gripped at the carpet, throwing his head back as he felt the sweat building up and his breath catching in his throat. The knot in his stomach grew tighter and tighter, burning hotter and hotter. 

Renton bit down harshly against his hand, drawing blood as he came hot, sticky ropes over the sleeve wrapped around his cock. He withdrew his hand, panting against the wall, trying to catch his breath. He sank down further, his bloody hand smearing against the wall, the carpet, and finally bleeding through the sleeve of Simon’s jacket. Mark couldn’t be bothered to care right now, though, he decided to just rest his eyes right here for a bit - or until Swanney came back and kicked him out. 

\--

Mark began opening his eyes, sitting up and groaning as his back ached horribly. The sun was going down now, it was almost completely hidden beneath the horizon. As he glanced over he saw Swanney back in the kitchen and heard a sudden knocking. Mother Superior answered the door, finding Spud and Simon waiting for him. Spud rushed in and Simon leisurely strolled into the den. 

Sick Boy and Mark locked eyes, Simon looked him over quickly. 

“That ma jackit?” Simon asked  
“Aye, ye left it last time ye were o’er.” Mark replied lazily  
Simon came closer and noticed blood, “Rents whae’d ye kill ‘n this thing?”  
“Eh?” Mark said in confusion before looking down at the bloodied sleeve

Mark went flushed for a moment as he looked at Simon, shyly biting his lip before composing himself to respond.

“Ah might’ve messed up ma hand.” Mark replied sheepishly.  
Simon held out his hand, “Awrite then, hand it o’er, Rents.”

Mark looked confused for a bit before catching on and shedding the jacket. Mark handed it to Sick Boy in a clump and the blond began looking it over. He grimaced as he touched the right sleeve. No blood but it was certainly wet with some sort of substance.

“Rents, what thae fuck did ye dae in ma jackit?” Simon asked

Mark tried to get up and realized his body was still out of commission for basic functioning. Renton decides to use Simon to help him - or at least try to.

“Ah’ll tell ye if ye help us tae thae flat.” Mark bargained  
Sick Boy crossed his arms, “ye cannae get yersel’ up can ye, Rents?”  
“Nae.” Mark answered honestly with a grin

Simon rolled his eyes and helped the ginger up. He turned to Swanney in the kitchen.

“Murphy’s yer issue now, Ah’m takin’ this yin.” Simon said, nodding to Mark - who he was currently holding up.

Swanney merely nodded and gave a thumbs up as Sick Boy left with Renton on his arm. 

\--

Simon rummaged through Renton’s pockets and eventually unlocked the door, helping Mark inside to flop onto his sofa. Sick Boy huffed and caught his breath from carrying his ginger friend. 

“Thank ye, Ah couldnae dae it wihoot ye.” Mark murmured  
Simon huffed as he grabbed the side of the couch, “Goat some E, wis gonnae dae it at Swanney’s wih Spud.” 

Renton looked over at Simon who produced a plastic baggy with pills from inside his coat pocket. Sick Boy tossed them onto the table and nodded to them.

“But Ah’d rather gih ‘em tae you then Murphy.” Simon said  
Renton nodded, “Aye, jist gih us a minute.”

Sick Boy sat himself down on the couch, looking over at Mark as he put his messy jacket over the side of the sofa. 

“Sae what did ye dae tae that thing?” He asked, pointing to it  
Renton smirked, heroin still a low simmer in his veins, “Ye really wannae ken?”  
“Aye, Ah dae.” Simon replied, almost sounding offended.  
Mark smirked and shook his head, “Awrite Ah might’ve blew a load oan thae sleeve.” He paused, “Ah formally apologize.” he said, not sounding very sorry at all.

The blond looked as if he was ready to have a brain aneurysm at that.

“Ye fuckin’ did what wih ma jackit?!” Simon exclaimed  
Renton laughed, “I jizzed oan thae sleeve. Painted it wih ma spunk.” 

The pure disgust on Simon’s face made Mark crack up laughing. Renton was holding his stomach as he shook with laughter. 

“But there wis blood?” Simon stated in confusion  
Mark smiled and showed off the bloody bite mark on his hand, “Canny have ‘em hearin’.”  
“Renton, ye’re a freak.” Simon said, shaking his head   
“Dun leave yer stuff at ma place if ye dunnae wan me tae dae thit tae it.” Mark stated matter of fact-ly

Renton turned on the television and flipped it mindlessly before settling on the animal planet, they were watching a documentary about animals mating. Simon’s face looked disgusted yet interested and Mark’s was blank.

“And here we see the omega going into their natural cycle of heat. In this cycle the omega will likely ‘present’ themselves to alphas willing to breed them. Watch as this omega ‘presents’ herself to a very genetically appealing alpha who is approaching.”

Mark and Simon watched as the animal arched it’s back, sticking out it’s rear and purring as well as letting out other noises to attract the alpha. The narrator continued on about ‘presenting’ and it’s importance when attempting to attract alphas during heat cycles. 

Simon grinned animalistically, “Wish it were thit easy in real life.” he crossed his arms  
“Aye.” Mark nodded, “Animals’ve goat it spoat on.”   
Sick Boy nodded in agreement, “Aye, loat moar productive than us.”

Simon paused and smirked at Mark.

“...Well, moar like reproductive.” He corrected.

Renton chucked at that and relaxed a bit more. They had a fun time making fun of animals fucking on the animal planet and comparing each other to the animals they saw. 

“Ye’re like thit fuckin’ ostrich there, Rents.” Sick Boy commented, “Skinny fuckin’ legs, big fuckin’ eyes, an’ when ye open yer mooth all Ah hear ‘s screechin’.” 

Mark rolled his eyes as he watched Simon begin to fuck about with the E he brought. Renton assumed that meant it was almost time to score again. 

“Awe, yeah? Well ye’re like thit fuckin’ koala wih all thae STDs ye’ve probably fuckin’ goat.” Renton quipped back in response.  
Simon rolled his eyes, “Ah’ve caught nowt ‘cause, unlike yew, Ah’m smart.” 

Renton elbowed Simon in place for where a good comeback should’ve been. Sick Boy gasped slightly as the boney elbow collided with his ribcage; it didn’t hurt, it mostly just surprised him. The blond glared at Mark out of the corner of his eye before shoving the ginger on his ass with a loud thump. Mark groaned as he looked up at Simon angrily. 

“Ah didnae hit ye thit hard.” Mark whined, attempting to get up.

Simon quickly sank off the couch, falling to his knees, hovering above Renton’s legs. Mark looked at him, eyes full of confusion, shock, and a bit of fear.

“Eh, Si, wha-” Mark managed out half of a confused question before he was cut off by Simon pushing him back.

The blond was hovering over every part of Mark. The ginger shook with fear, wondering if this was payback for the jacket. Renton braced himself for a beating.

“Rents, open yer mooth.” Sick Boy said,  
Mark scrunched up his eyebrows, “Why?” he asked in confusion

Simon ran his thumb over Mark’s plush bottom lip, making a mental note of how soft they are. Sick Boy’s thumb threatened to penetrate Renton’s mouth, but the blond wanted Renton to act freely.

“Just dae it.” he spoke almost delicately

Renton hesitated for a moment but relented, opening his mouth slowly. He watched as Simon took a pill off the table and came back in closer. The blond’s face now hovered above Renton’s, the pill coming between them. Simon put the pill on his tongue and then, quickly, pressed his tongue to Renton’s. 

Mark gasps as Simon slips the pill onto his tongue, Simon staying a bit longer than necessary just to rub tongues with the ginger. Mark whimpers when the contact is lost, his face only showing his true want for a moment. Quickly, though, Mark pulls himself together and looks away as Simon takes his own E.


	4. Cotton Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark's cotton mouth puts him in an interesting position on Simon's lap

It was around four in the morning now, the two of them had changed into their pajamas which were just boxers and a shirt. They were coming down but Simon opted to continue smoking hash. Renton joined in on smoking as the blond flipped through the channels on the TV.

“Swear Mark, there’s nowt oan this fuckin’ ‘hing.”  
“Aye, ‘s four in the mornin’ Si.”

Simon shot him a look before settling on some action movie before returning to his joint rolling. Mark watched as he licked the paper to close it - that tongue. Renton bit his bottom lip, looking away before taking a long drag off his own joint. 

“Wish Ah had some ching, eh.”  
“Ah ken Begbie’s goat sum but Ah’m no fuckin’ wih him the now.” 

Simon shook his head and huffed in agreement with Mark.

“Aye, cannae fuckin’ deal wih ‘em.” 

They continued to watch the shitty action movie before cottonmouth got it’s hold on Renton. Mark quickly looked over at his new table beside the couch. He’d acquired it to hold a lamp and some drinks. There was a glass of soda sitting on the table but Simon was beside it. The hash was really getting to them both now, as Mark felt his abilities to move being taken from him. With limited motor skills Mark decided to climb over Simon and retrieve the drink. 

Simon watched in pure and utter confusion as Mark got on all fours, crawling towards him. He queried an eyebrow at Renton but the ginger’s mouth was much too dry and intoxicated to respond. Mark crawled over Simon’s lap and finally managed to grab the drink. Without moving an inch Renton began to gulp the drink down. The blond slowly and delicately rubbed the small of Mark’s back. Simon would be lying if he said the sight of Mark like this wasn’t intriguing him. He’d noticed Renton had put on just a bit of weight recently, probably during his tolerance break, what made him notice, however, was Mark’s ass sticking out as he drank. 

He bit his lip, he shouldn’t and he knew it. Still, Simon’s hand wandered from the small of Mark’s back, tracing slowly down, trying to be as faint as possible with his touches. He knew it was odd to be touching Mark right now in general, but as his hand graced Mark’s ass, he felt his morals go blank - look at that fuckin’ ass. Simon let out a quiet groan he needed strength, he needed to stop his queer antics. 

Mark had taken quick notice of Simon touching him and now, as he felt Sick Boy lightly rubbing his ass, he bit his lip and arched his back just a bit more. Simon noticed quickly as Mark’s arch increased, a smug grin appeared across his face - Goddamn, Renton. The blond’s touch became heavier, Sick Boy now grabbing the ginger’s ass, fondling it. Mark gasped and let out a broken whimper, gripping the side of the couch as he felt arousal pooling in his stomach. He gasped as he felt Simon’s thumb rubbing at his entrance through the fabric of his boxers. 

“Ah nnf ha-ah, Si.” 

Mark pressed back against the thumb rubbing his asshole.

“Yes, Mark?” Simon inquired as if nothing was occurring

Mark could hear the smirk in Simon’s voice but his arousal was preventing him from being snarky. 

“S-Si, a-ah..” Mark’s head fell between his shoulder blades, “Please... F-fingers.”  
“Hm?” Sick Boy quirked a brow, while sucking on his fingers.

Simon didn’t bother with Mark’s boxers, slipping his hand inside the fabric and teasing Mark’s hole with his index finger. 

“Like this?” Simon asked rhetorically before slipping in his finger.  
Mark gasped loudly and clung to the couch, “Gah mmm fuck!”

Renton quickly adjusted as Sick Boy slipped in the second finger, the third following shortly after. Mark was quivering in Simon’s lap, it’d been so fucking long since he’d felt like this. His mind was quickly turning to mush. He couldn’t believe Simon “Sick Boy” Williamson, his best fucking mate, had three fingers in his ass and was making him fucking well sing.

The moans didn’t stop though, they couldn’t really with how well Simon was fingering his ass. Sick Boy had upped the pace and Mark’s body was shaking so hard he thought he’d collapse in ecstasy. 

“S-Simon! O-Oh god fuck-!” Mark moaned loudly as Simon jabbed his prostate.

Sick Boy curled his fingers more so he could continue to jab at Renton’s g-spot, making the ginger cry out like a whore and tremble faster. Those fingers filled him up so nicely and Simon seemed to know exactly what he was doing. 

“You’re fuckin’ lovely.” Simon nearly whispered in awe

The sight in front of him was incredible and he wished he could take a photo, he’d hang it up on a wall… And probably gratify himself while staring at it. Oh yes, Renton did look good enough to shag. As Simon’s rough pace got even harsher Mark’s limbs collapsed beneath him.

“Holy fuck! Holy fuck! S-Si mmm!” Mark cried out loudly as he shot a hot, abundant load in his boxers.

Simon felt the warmth through Mark’s boxers and he knew the ginger had cum himself. Sick Boy slowly pulled his fingers from the ginger’s hole and out of his boxers. 

“Rents, ye just chugged ma drink, go get us sum. Ah’ve goat cotton mooth.” Simon stated like nothing had just happened.  
“Aye, a moment. Cannae fuckin’ move.”  
Simon smirked and huffed out a chuckled, “Typical.”


	5. It's Happening All Over Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Tommy are going through some tough times and both go to Mark.

The following day Renton woke to an empty bed and a note on the table indicating Simon had gone away on business. He sighed and crumbled the note, tossing it away with disregard and disdain. Even though Mark found it rude for him to sneak away like that, it was probably best after what had occured the night prior. 

Then it became odd when Mark hadn’t heard from Simon in a few days; no calls, no accidental bump ins, no notes in the mail or messages sent via people. It was as if Simon had vanished away into the night never to return. Something inside Renton grew cold at the thought as he curled up on the sofa. 

A glance in the corner exposed that the blond had left his jacket yet again. Mark perked up as he looked at the mess of cloth on the floor. As dirty as Renton remembered it being… Even with that being said… It would be rude not to return it, right? Mark let a small grin cross his face as he pulled himself up and readied for a visit to the only place he knew Simon would end up - Swanney’s.

\----

Mark didn’t know when it had become night or what he was doing on the floor at Swanney’s house… But he knew something horrible was happening. He awoke to screaming from the other room; it was Alison. Renton pulled himself up, stumbling as he turned to see Simon who was wide awake and springing off the floor. 

“Alison!” 

_ \- ‘It was familiar.’ _

“Alison! What’s wrong?!” 

_ \- ‘Too fuckin’ familiar.’ _

“MY BAIRN! MY BAIRN NO!”

“Alison!”

“THE BAIRN’S AWAY! THE BAIRN’S AWAY!”

_ \- ‘’S happenin’ aw over again’ _

Then it was all quiet, Simon and Alison were both very quiet. Then there was sobbing, loud sobbing. Mark could hear Simon quietly telling Alison it was okay, he didn’t sound very convincing but the way Simon holds you makes you feel like it’s okay… It makes you hope. Mark knew Simon was holding her now, rocking so lightly as he always did, telling her that it’s all over now... Dawn is gone and she has been for a while. 

Mark hadn’t noticed that state it had left Alison in long after it was over. He hadn’t noticed the continued suffering, the nightmares, the times when Alison was completely lost in her PTSD. It was horrible and it made Mark feel ugly, ugly down to his bones. So Renton cooked up a shot and got high on Swanney’s floor. You can’t feel ugly if skagged up. 

That night Renton walked himself home in the rain, not saying anything to anyone before he left. It felt too somber, or as Spud always liked to say,  _ heavy _ . Mark tossed his keys on the side table he’d recently added to his collection of furniture. He was fixing the place up nice enough but right now he couldn’t award himself with a pat on the back. Right now all he could manage to do was faceplant into his bed and slip away into the darkness of sleep.

He didn’t dream that night. 

\----

The next morning Mark got up and lazily went to make coffee, he felt very groggy from his sleep. He had to go off to work and smoke his morning cigarette on the way; work was work and it was only so he could get skag. You can only steal and sell so many fuckers TVs before it gets taxing. 

Mark went out drinking with Tommy after work that night, he hadn’t seen his friend in so long and it would be nice to catch up. Thankfully, Tommy came alone, leaving his girlfriend to their apartment by herself. Mark didn’t like entertaining his lad’s birds because he found them to be usually lacking in any personality whatsoever. 

Tommy was going on about football as he knocked back drinks, keeping up a steady pace with each other. 

“Mark, can Ah tell yew somethin’?” Tommy asked

“Aye, ‘course ye can.” Mark insisted

Tommy bit his bottom lip, looking away nervously, “Ah didnae bring Lizzy tonight.”

Mark furrowed his brow, of course he knew that he wasn’t fucking blind. Tommy acted as if this was some sort of profound statement; Mark couldn’t have been more confused.

“Aye, Ah can see that, Tommy.”

Tommy sighed, “Things ‘tween us ‘re nae good, Mark.” he spoke gravely

Mark softened in realization, “She didnae want tae come wih ye.”

“Nae, she’s bloody pissed at us aboot ‘er birthday ‘n iggy pop.”

“Awe, aye, Tommy thit’s terrible. ‘M very sorry.” 

Tommy looked away, “She told us nae tae come back the night.” 

“Eh?” Mark questioned. 

He was knocking back a shot much cleaner than he remembered doing it years ago. Maybe it was Tommy edging on his nerves; how much more could he take of the relationship issues? How much more could he take of sad, unhappy Tommy. Mark sighed,  _ \- ‘no much mair.’ _ he slung his arm around Tommy, awaiting the dreaded question.

“Can Ah stey at yours tonight, Mark?” He sounded like a wounded puppy

Mark couldn’t say no to a mate, not a real mate like Tommy was. So he sighed and pulled Tommy closer with his arm, and sighed. 

“‘Course ye can, Tommy.” 

\----

Tommy was on Mark’s couch now, crying in his boxers and holding one of Renton’s throw pillows tightly to his chest.

“Ah dun geht it, Mark!” Tommy managed to get out between sobs, “Ah try sah hard fer her!”

Mark was dying on the inside but kept up the act for Tommy, rubbing his shoulders and comforting the sandy blond.

“Aye, Tommy, Ah ken ye dae. We all ken ye dae.”

Renton looked about as dead as he felt in that moment and it was almost comical placed next to the hyper-emotionally charged Tommy. 

“Mark, kin Ah trust yew?” Tommy asked softly once the crying began to subside slightly

Mark nodded, perking up a bit when he noticed the crying slow, “Aye.”

“Ah’m sae confused Mark, nae yin wants us.” Tommy confessed

Mark knew the way Tommy was looking in his eyes. The shy glimmer of wonder, of curiosity. Why did it seem like he did that to everyone; bringing out the experimental side of them. Tommy didn’t strike Mark as particularly homosexual or homoerotic, he seemed to be the most straight-edge man he knew. But here Tommy was, giving Mark that look that Simon gave him. That look that seemed to melt his bones and caress out a “aye”.

Tommy touched his cheek so lightly Mark almost didn’t notice it, he could almost feel the anxiety and nervousness radiating off of Tommy. 

“Mark.” Tommy said, sounded deadly serious, “Dinnae tell a  _ soul _ .”

Renton was entranced by the blond’s touch and his eyes which penetrated his cool exterior, “Aye, I willnae.”

No more words were exchanged before Tommy leaned in and pressed his lips to Renton’s. The blond was oddly warm and he held Renton as if the ginger was a lassie; Mark wasn’t sure how to feel about Tommy. How should he feel? 

Tommy pulled away quickly, eyes widening as he looked at Mark like a deer caught in headlights. The blond touched his own lips lightly, as if they felt strange, then his eyes became lidded and his breathing ragged as his concern warmed over into desperation; leaning back into Renton, the blond kissed him feverishly. 

Mark was taken aback by his friend’s outburst and his expression of want. He was sure Tommy was going to slither away, claiming it all to be just a joke or something stupid he might do when he’s drunk. Mark wasn’t into Tommy, not romantically or sexually anyway; he was sure the blond wasn’t bad in bed but he wasn’t exactly aching for Tommy  _ specifically _ . However, Tommy's excitement was beginning to start a fire in Mark’s stomach. 

That night in the darkest hours, with no lights on, only the moon was casting a faint light in through the window. Mark had crawled into bed with the blond, hovering over him, assuring Tommy he would do all the work, all Tommy had to do was sit there. So the blond closed his eyes as he nervously accepted a blowjob from Mark Renton. 

Renton couldn’t admit to himself what he’d thought when he blew Tommy. That when he was sliding his mouth down the length of Tommy’s cock he’d wished, feverishly, that it belonged to another blond. That when he gagged and Tommy held his head down, he imagined bigger, rougher hands. That when he accepted and swallowed a large helping of spunk down his throat, he’d wished it was Simon’s. 

He wished Simon would come and kiss him, and display such a feverish need. He wished Simon would come in and allow Mark to have him, suck him dry without question. He wished and he wished and he wished. All these wishes left him with nothing except wet sheets, stained boxers, and a different blond, who he’d wished would just figure his relationship out by himself. Wishing got you nowhere. 

So that night Mark fell asleep in his shirt and keks, curled up to a naked Tommy, nothing covering him except the sheets.

\-----

Renton awoke in the middle of the night at the sound of his front door being opened. He looked over, expecting Tommy to have left, but he found the blond to still be loosely cuddling him in the buff. Mark furrowed his brows, carefully sitting up so as to not wake Tommy. 

The door opened and Mark saw a dark blazer and bleach blond hair, soon recognizing it as Simon; he’d found the spare key. He looked over, seeming very unhappy at the sight of Mark in bed with another naked man. 

He wrinkled his nose up at Mark, “Yew fuckin’ sleep wih him?” 

“What’s it tae ye?” Mark challenged, crossing his arms as he went into the living room with Simon. 

“Jus’ didnae take ye fer a hoor, Mark.” He stated flatly

Mark rolled his eyes, “Ah’m no a hoor, he’s gaein’ threw a hard time.”

“Wih, Lizzy, Ah ken.” Simon stated, sounding agitated

Mark got to thinking he might’ve talked to Simon similarly.

“Jus’ ‘cause his burd’s chuffed ay ‘em ye shagged ‘em?”

Mark rolled his eyes again, “We didnae shag. Wis just a blowie.”

“Ye just handin’ those oot now?” Simon asked

Mark gave him a look, “Wouldnae ye like tae ken, eh?”

Simon glanced at Tommy’s sleeping form then back at Mark, quickly taking over and grabbing Renton’s chin. The blond’s fingers lingered on Mark’s bottom lip ever so lightly. 

“Mark, Ah’ve asked nowt ay ye.” His eyelids lowered, “Dunnae ye remember, Ah’m always thae yin givin’.” 

Mark took in a shaky breath, closing his eyes, “Aye, Ah remember.”

Simon quickly stood up, looking to Tommy’s sleeping form before looking back at Renton. 

“Ah will be back tomorrae at noon.” Simon stated flatly, as if nothing had happened.

“Aye see ye then.”

Then, once again, it was just Tommy and Mark in the dead of night with no light except what the moon gave them. 

\-----

Tommy was away the next morning, talking about making things proper with Lizzy; Mark just wanted him out. 

“Aye an’ aboot last night…” Tommy started, turning around in the doorway.

Mark stared him down into his eyes, “Dun mention it.”

“Ah want ye tae have this.” The blond procured some cash from his pockit

Renton looked at it and quickly snatched it away, trying to damage his pride the least he could. 

“Thanks.” he muttered quickly before turning away as Tommy left.

At least Tommy gave him a twenty for his worries, the blond was never too rude. 

\-----

The day ticked on and then there was a knocking around noon - Simon. Mark didn’t know why he bothered to knock now that he had a key; Simon usually wasn’t so polite in his mannerisms. The day played out as it usually would in Simon’s company, shooting the shit, watching a shitty action movie, and smoking. 

He stayed that night, his demeanour growing somber as it got late. Simon found himself in Renton’s bed, sitting upright, staring at his hands. He was thinking about  _ her. _

“Mark.” 

“Aye?”

“Remember wee Dawn?”

“Simon-”

“Ah remember when she wis first ‘roond.”

Simon positioned his arms and hands like he was holding a baby.

“When Ah held her. Ah used tae hold her. An’ I’d rub her wee crown oan thae back ay her head.”

The blond demonstrated on the air, rubbing small circles as if rubbing the back of a baby’s head. His own head sank low. Tears were welling in his eyes and it was the first time he’d allowed himself to feel it again. The sadness, the depression, the overwhelming amount of guilt he carried in his heart. It was coming to him now, all too quickly, and the pain was so severe he wondered if it was what Dawn had felt while she was dying. He’d hoped not; he’d hoped she’d gone and felt nothing at all. That was much too hopeful of a thought though. 

“Simon.” Mark was holding him now, genuinely worried for him

His head fell into his hands as his tears fell down onto the bed below.

“Dawn deserved better than us, better than me.” He shook his head, the tears coming down harder, “Ah loved her, Mark!”

His eyes closed and he clenched his teeth tightly as the pain was hitting him, dragging him down into a pit of despair. His heart was sinking into his stomach and it was an ugly, hopeless feeling. Mark had never seen Simon this distraught since the day it happened. Simon hadn’t cried since it happened.

Now it was all coming back.

“She wis mine! Dawn wis mah bairn! She died!” Simon’s breathing was quickening. 

He couldn’t stop, he was spiraling down, down, down. It was just as horrendous and just as panicked as Alison. 

“Ah fuckin’ let her die, Mark!” Simon cried, “Ah’m a failure.” he whimpered

Simon gripped the sheets tightly, as his body shook with pain and sadness. Mark tried helplessly to comfort Simon but nothing was working.

“Ah’m so sorry.” Simon huffed out, voice cracking in distress, “Ah’m so fuckin sorry, Dawn.” 

For the first time in his life, Simon Williamson felt someone else’s pain and he knew guilt’s weight was heavy on his heart; feeling as though his chest might collapse. 

Mark held Simon tightly in his arms, comforting the panicked mess he was at the moment. Simon grabbed onto Renton for stabilization and buried his face in the man’s neck. Mark wondered if this was how it was when Simon comforted Ally. When it finally all went quiet and it was all made okay again. Still, as Mark laid down next to Simon’s calmed yet quivering form, he knew something inside Simon was never going to be okay again.


	6. Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is full of punishments, loss, and regret... Has Mark known any of it?

The next morning Mark woke up to see Simon sitting on the edge of the bed, talking on the landline phone. He sounded annoyed and when he noticed that Mark was awake quickly ended the call.

“Whae wis thit?”  
“Alison.”

Mark softened his gaze a bit.

“She okey?”  
Simon looked at the floor, “She’s better.”

Mark nodded in acknowledgement and Simon rubbed his eyes, groaning. The ginger could tell he didn’t sleep well last night.

“Want some coffee?” Mark offered

The ginger got up and made his way to the kitchen before receiving an answer.

Simon shouted after him, “Aye! An’ a fuckin’ hit would be braw tae!”  
“Whae dae I look like? Mother Superior?” Mark shouted from the kitchen

Simon huffed in response and rolled his eyes. Then the phone was off and Mark was lookin’ at Simon but Simon had no intention of moving. Mark budges, huffing and picking up, giving Simon an evil glare.

“Aye?”  
Pause.  
“Eh, no but..”  
Pause.  
“Ah dunno, Franko.”  
Pause.  
“Awe aye, awright, Frank.”

Mark put the phone down and groaned,

“It was Begbie, we’re goin’ oot.”  
“What dae ye mean?!”  
“Franko’s comin’ he wants us tae go wih him.”  
“Awe cuntin fuck, Renton!” Simon threw his hands up in the air.

He was doing that thing traditional Italians did when they spoke; making hand motions, widening his eyes, enunciating his words, and clapping. Mark found it entertaining and liked to watch the blond rant and rave about the smallest things. This, however, was not a small thing. Simon only got this Italian when he was majorly upset.

“Look, Si, we just gotta stehy for one ‘er two peeves, some other cunts will pick ‘em up an’ we can dash.”  
Simon relented hesitantly, “Eh, awright.”

It only took Begbie about ten minutes to locate Mark and Simon, knocking loudly like he was a policeman. Simon refused to answer so it was up to Mark. The ginger cautiously answered the door only to be shoved aside, Begbie made his entrance.

“Awright lads, ‘s doon tae the pub wih us, then.” Begbie stated, leaving no room for hesitation  
“Aye” Simon and Mark agree in unison.

Off they were, Mark and Simon pretending they aren’t miserable as fuck. Eventually a few others joined them at the table, Tommy and Spud being the noticeable ones. Simon was doing better than Mark, being more engaging in conversation and more willing to knock back shots. Renton made faces at the drink and was very brief with his conversations. He looked like he wanted to curl up and die and Simon had to make him realize he wasn’t being subtle. Simon kicked Mark’s ankle from under the table.

“Ow.” Mark grunted, shooting a look at Simon  
He nodded towards the back door, “Ah’m goin fer a smoke, ye comin’?”  
“Awe, aye.” Mark agreed, still looking pissed off.  
“Whit aboot us?” Franco huffed  
“Frank, ye ken I dun smoke menthol.” Simon said  
“Awe, awright then, Ah dun want any.”

They get outside the back and light up.

“These arenae menthols?”  
“Ah dun fuckin’ ken, aw Ah ken is thit he oanly smokes menthols.”

Mark nodded in acknowledgement, Sick Boy is much smarter than he looks… Then again he isn’t a natural blond.

“Ye need tae stoap lookin’ sae miserable, he’ll catch oan.”  
Mark shrugged, “He’s no payin’ attention tae us, ‘s aw yew.”  
“Aye, an’ Ah’m well fuckin’ tired.”  
Mark grinned, “Wannae ditch ‘em?”  
Simon agreed

They flick their cigarettes into the street and leave out the back, making sure not to walk on the main sidewalk until they were far enough away from Franco.

They enter a pub across town and and start drinking actually good alcohol, Mark and Simon going on about schemes and skag. It was a genuinely nice moment they had together as friends.

\----

That night they stumbled home together from the pub, Mark hadn’t seen Simon genuinely smile in a long time until now. He looked oddly youthful considering he’d been drinking all night and was probably on more substances than he admitted to Mark. The ginger didn’t mind though, he hadn’t gotten as drunk because he knew one of them needed to be mindful… Enough.

Simon was propped up against Mark’s side as they stumbled to Mark’s flat, the blond struggled to keep his face from meeting the floor but gravity was actively working against him. Mark held him back upright.

“We’ll be there soon, Si.”  
“‘M pissed”

Mark then stops as he feels something warm and wet on his pant leg, the ginger examines his pants and then Simon’s. His eyes widen in shock and he looks absolutely disgusted.

“SIMON! YE PISSED OAN US!”  
“Aw aye?”

Simon looked down and chuckled at himself, then he looked at Mark and burst out laughing, going away from the ginger and holding a wall to keep himself up as he cackled.

“THIS ISNAE FUNNY YE BASTARD!”  
“‘M sorry Mark.” Simon wheezed, “Ah didnae even ken!”

He holds his midsection, trying to hold back another laughing fit.

“Ah’m jus’ really pished.”

Mark gives Simon a judgmental look and hurries him to continue the walk home.

“‘S awready cold ‘n now Ah’m walkin’ hame wih yer piss doon oor leg, cunting fucker.”

Simon is laughing silently as he listens to Mark’s grumbled angry ramblings.

They finally arrive at Mark's flat and the two are quick to dismiss their pants, Simon being too lazy to put another pair on while Mark slips into some sweatpants. He grimaces at his and Simon’s piss soaked pants, Mark glances over at the blond and…

“Oh Jesus!” He shields his eyes, “Could ye at least put oan some keks?!”  
“Mark, what would yer ma think hearin’ ye usin’ the Lord’s name in vain?” Simon tisked  
“She’d think ye should put yer cock away.” Mark replied snarkily

Simon rolled his eyes and stole a pair of Mark’s keks and a pair of pants he’d left on the floor. He found the belt that went with them as well and put it on, before flopping on the bed, and curling himself in the blankets like a burrito.

“Dun get comfy, ye ken yew always sleep oan the couch.”  
“Oh but officer, isnae there anythin’ Ah can dew?” Simon asks mockingly, arching his back and making a face at Mark  
The ginger picked up a pillow and threw it at the blond’s face, “Nae whoorin’ in ma flat.”

The phone was going and Mark picked up before Simon could heave his wasted form into a sitting position.

“Aye?”  
“It’s Swanney... Something’s happened.”

Mark seemed confused by the person calling and Simon couldn’t make out what they were talking about. Then he looked at the blond, going over to him, covering the receiver with his hand.

“It’s for you.”

Simon saw on Mark’s face that whatever it was, it wasn’t good. He took the phone hesitantly.

“Aye, it’s Simon.”  
“Simon, it’s Swanney... Something really bad ‘s happened.”  
“What?”  
“Ally… She’s away.”

Mark watched Simon’s face contort; confusion turning, his eyes widening, almost looking haunted.

“What’d ye mean?”

You could tell by his voice he knew exactly what Swanney meant but he didn’t want to accept it. Until Swanney outright said it; Alison had taken her life in the bathroom of Swanney’s flat while he was gone.

Simon’s hands shook and he pulled the face away, he could hear Swanney calling his name but he couldn’t answer. The blond put the phone back down on the receiver, his face remaining horrified and not explaining anything to Mark. The ginger was looking at him, asking if he was okay, what had happened; but it was all muddy, Simon couldn’t even hear him. The world was spinning, he stood next to the bedside table, his legs shaking as he struggled to stand.

“Simon what thae hell is wrong wih yew?!” Mark shouted, frustrated with Sick Boy for saying nothing.

The blond hugged himself, leaning against the wall as he looked at the floor. He failed them both. Simon slid down the wall to his knees on the floor, he looked oddly numb and Mark was hesitant to approach.

“She’s gone, Mark.” his voice was docile as he avoided Mark’s eyes  
“Who?” The ginger asked in confusion  
Simon sniffled and looked up at Mark, “Ally.”  
Mark stiffened, “What happened?”  
“Ally…” Simon tightened his grip around himself.

She was the mother of his child and, as much as everyone thought that was meaningless to him, it still held relevance in his mind.

“Oh Ally.” He croaked out, almost folding in on himself as he finally allowed some of his tears to surface, cursing himself for showing Mark how fragile he truly was.  
“Si but yew…. She wisnae yer-” Mark stammered in confusion  
Simon looked at Mark with pained eyes that resonated throughout his mind, “She had mah bairn, Mark.”

Simon felt himself tense up as he pulled himself to stand, Mark didn’t get it. He never fucking got it. The blond looked at him with hurt, with sadness and anguish, but Mark didn’t understand those emotions, he hardly felt anything at all.

“Yew dunnae ken what it’s like, Mark! Ye’ve never lost the yins close tae ye!”  
Mark looked at him, eyes almost glazed over, “Ah never had anyyin tae lose, Si.”

The two stared at each other for a long time, Mark suddenly feeling a deep regret for what he’d said. He’d wished he’d just kept his mouth shut and comforted the blond like he understood. There was a dark silence as Simon stared at him, his eyes dangerous and wild. Why had Mark let the jealousy get to him? Why hadn’t he just shut up? Simon approached him slowly, their noses just inches from touching.

“Ah’m off then.” his voice sounded like a warning, making Mark’s bones feel cold  
Mark grabbed his sleeve, “Simon, dunnae.”  
Simon looked at the ginger’s hand, gripping him, “Let go, Mark.”  
“Si dun leave.” Mark almost begged, “Ye’re too drunk. Please.”

The tension in the room was palpable even as Mark tried to defuse the situation. Simon was walking towards the door with Mark back-stepping in front of him.

“Get oot of mah wey.”  
“Simon, dun go.”

Mark knew if he left the blond like this something would happen; he knew Simon was going to do a very very bad thing. He’d rather his friend stay here so he could watch him. The blond finally stopped looking past Mark, directing his attention directly onto the ginger’s worried face. Simon looked scary.

Suddenly the blond’s hand was around Mark’s throat, slamming him back against the door and staring him down in a furious rage that had been contained up until now.

“Mark.” Simon spoke through his teeth, eyes blazing in anger.  
The ginger whimpered, terrified of the blond’s rage, “S-Si, Ah’m sorry.”  
Simon snarled at his friend, hand clenching tighter around his neck, “Ah’ve fuckin’ had it wih yew, Mark.”

Simon harshly flung Renton over his coffee table, the ginger landing on his stomach and knocking everything off into the floor. The blond held him down with one hand between his shoulder blades, taking his belt off with one hand and grinned at the terrified ginger beneath his grasp.

“Ah dun think ye’re fuckin sorry, Rent Boy, but Ah’m gunnae make ye well fuckin’ sorry.” Simon hissed

He yanked Renton’s pants down to his ankles and swung the belt down hard across Mark’s ass; verbally berating him for being such an unmannered cunt.

“Yer maw never hit ye like this, that’s why ye’re fuckin spoiled.”

Renton’s cheeks reddened in embarrassment as tears pricked his eyes from the pain. As much as he hated to admit it, Simon was strong enough to give him a good lashing. His ass was sore, burning red and he cried out every time he was hit, gripping the coffee table and gasping, yelping. His mouth hung open as he felt a familiar fire burning inside him; he exploded in shame as he realized what it meant.

A moan clawed its way out of Renton’s throat as he dug his nails into the table. - This cannae be happenin’. This cannae be happenin’. But it was and Mark was well fucking crying now - out of shame or pain, Mark couldn’t tell.

“Fuckin’ bastart.” Mark cried as Simon hit him particularly hard

An even harder hit was administered shortly after as punishment.

“FUCKIN’ ‘ELL!” Mark nearly wailed, his entire body moving from the force of the hit.  
Simon sneered at Mark, “Y’see, Mark, that’s what is called a FUCKING CONSEQUENCE!”

Another hit and Mark wailed, he was hurting all over; fingertips worn out from digging into the unforgiving table. He wanted it to stop but it felt good. Simon was unleashing a beating on him now, Mark’s eyes never drying for a second and his wails filling the flat; he was surprised no one had filed a noise complaint. Simon continued to reprimand and lecture between lashings, although it became more brief so he could fit in more physical punishment. Mark’s body was shaking and seemingly sweating from the abuse. His cock was aching worse than he’d ever known it could; he wanted to pass out from it all but managed to keep his eyes partly open as his cheek was smushed against the table.

Simon stopped his assault, gazing at Mark’s exhausted form, his tear stained face, the reddening of his skin, the burning flesh of his ass - Mark looks right fuckin’ fit. He knelt down beside the ginger, rubbing his buzzed hair and getting a closer look at Mark’s teary puffed up eyes. It was almost instant, the change occurring in Simon’s eyes; Mark saw them lighten and something familiar stepping through… It wasn’t his bezzy mate, more like a romanticized version of him. Simon’s real gaze couldn’t be this loving… Could it?

“Mark, love, yew okey?”  
His eyes parted more, “Aye.”  
Simon put his forehead against Mark’s “Ye did very good, Mark.”

Renton perked up a bit at the praise. He wasn’t sure how someone could receive a spanking poorly… Or well for that matter… But he was more than willing to accept the compliment.

“Ah’ve decided tae reward ye.”

Simon stepped over to the couch and beckoned Renton over. The ginger weakly pulled himself to his feet and stood in front of Simon. The blond sat and tilted his head to gaze at Renton.

“On your knees, love.”

Mark carefully got onto his knees, silently fizzling with cautious excitement.

“Aye, Rents, sae good fer me.”

Renton felt arousal shooting through him at the praise, finally hearing validation from the likes of Sick Boy. Simon calmingly pet the ginger’s buzzed head and unfasted his belt for Renton - it was a high-end designer brand and Mark couldn’t even begin to understand how to touch it. Simon had the belt undone swiftly and was pulling out his cock. Mark was disgusted with himself for wanting this, the excitement building up in his chest was embarrassing.

Once it was out Mark couldn’t help but speak his mind.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

It was a statement of impressed awe, Simon had never let him touch or hardly see it. Of course he’d seen it before when they’d taken pictures in the booth, but never like this. He knew it was big, but not this big. Simon quirked his brow at the ginger, who was gazing at his massive member, and it was only half-hard.

“Dun worry, Rents, it doesnae bite.”

Renton gave Simon a look and tentatively gave a small lick to the underside of the blond’s cock. Finally he got to touch Simon, finally he got to reciprocate. Small licks turn to long laps up the underside of his cock, and then he’s sucking on the head; trying to think what had other birds done to him… Well the good ones.

He starts a moderate pace, hollowing out his cheeks like he’d seen others do, and getting a lovely groan in return.

“Mmm, no bad, Rents.” Simon compliments with his head hung back

The blond rests his hands on Renton’s head, lightly guiding him back and forth without being too rough - he knew Renton probably wasn’t experienced. Then he did it, he went for the deepthroat, not stopping until his nose reached Simon’s pelvis, gagging horribly and pulling back.

“Fuckin lovely, Rents.”

So he did it again, gagging and pulling back just to hear Simon’s groans. He had to return to more shallow sucking due to his gag reflex, but would occasionally go all the way down for Simon. Renton then thought about his tongue, and decided to run it along Simon’s shaft while he worked. Mark wasn’t the best multitasker, but he could pick it up after a few fumbles. The blond was thoroughly enjoying Renton’s mouth, even though he wasn’t very experienced, Mark’s mouth felt good.

Mark pulled off, drool connecting his bottom lip to the tip of Simon’s cock, “Si.”  
“Aye?”  
Renton looked away nervously, “kin yew take o’er fer us?”  
Simon grinned, tightening his grip on Mark’s head, “Ye want us tae fuck yer mooth?”  
Mark’s entire face goes red but he nods in agreement, “Aye.”

Simon needed no more explanation, both his hands gripping Mark’s head and guiding him back and forth on the blond’s cock. Sick Boy starts slow but quickens his pace and loses control over his instincts, shoving Mark down harshly. He loved hearing the ginger gag and feeling his throat contract around his cock.

The pace gets quicker and rougher and Mark’s jaw aches, drool leaking down his chin in a pool on the floor. His knees began to ache and Mark felt as though they would bruise but he kept sucking as he was fed cock.

“Ahhh fuck, Rents, ‘m close.”

Then Renton realized he was going to get a fat load in his mouth and he wasn’t sure if he swallowed or not, he’d only done this once or twice prior. Sick Boy didn’t stop to let him think though, he was still at it. Mpfh! Mpfh! Mpfh! Gag! Gag! Gag!

“Oohhh fuck, Mark!”

Renton’s head was shoved down and there was nowhere to go, he just had to accept the cum being pumped down his throat. He swallowed and he swallowed for what seemed like a long fucking time. He’d hardly been able to taste it, but he did get a bit of the salt and tang that was Simon’s cum.

“Good Rents, swallow.” Simon pet his buzzed head

He didn’t really have a choice either way and when he was let off, simply gasped for air and caught his breath. Mark wiped his mouth and looked up at the blond who was panting and returning his gaze with lidded eyes.

He was more than happy to give but he also wanted to get, Simon could see it in his eyes.

“Ye wantin’ ‘em?” Simon inquired, lifting his hand and wiggling his fingers.  
Renton felt himself aching in his pants, “Aye.” he nodded almost desperately  
Simon grinned, “Ah’m sleepin’ in the bed, then.”

Mark didn’t care, he was making his way to the bed and was more than ready for some of Simon’s help.


	7. Okay again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is all your fault. You know it.

_ How could you lose another one, Simon? _

_ I dunno I- _

_ You barely even knew _

_ She didnae- _

_ This is all your fault. You know it. _

He awoke with a start, it was still dark and he was in Mark’s bed. Mark hadn’t woken up and Simon was holding his head.  _ She’s gone. They’re gone. _

Renton didn’t know the entire situation, Simon preferred it that way. He’d already said the truth but Renton was daft, he didn’t understand. When he said Ally had his baby, he wasn’t talking about Dawn. Ally had gotten pregnant again. Simon was glad Renton hadn’t noticed all the phone calls he’d been making; Mark only caught him once.

When she got pregnant the PTSD got worse, the nightmares got worse, it was all worse. She couldn’t take her mind off Dawn, she couldn’t get rid of the guilt. Alison was eaten alive before anyone around her even knew it. 

She’d only told Simon and she only told him because she knew it was his. He willed her to stay alive, he told her he’d help her, but she’d heard that before. She didn’t know if she could trust him anymore. Ally couldn’t bare the thought of an abortion but she wasn’t sure she could keep it either. 

Ally was getting worse all the time and no one was there to stop it.

Because no one ever knew.

Simon was the closest to knowing and he blamed himself. The guilt was coming back, the shame was filling his veins, and he knew soon that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from crying. He looked over at Mark and the skag on the nightstand. The only thing he ever knew that could cure tears.

He snuck away to the bathroom to take a hit. The belt’s around his arm and he’s slapping up a vein, the shot already fixed and waiting.  _ C’mon c’mon. _ Finally a vein shows itself and Simon readies the injection. He’s watching the needle, puncturing the vein, pulling back just before hitting home and- 

_ He’s gone. _

A soft moan escapes him as his head tilts back, and he puts the needle down. 

_Euphoria._ _Pure euphoria._

Finally, he was okay.


	8. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Mark, I like yew.... But ye cannae treat us like we’re goin’ oot ‘n that.”

Mark found him in the bathroom later when he woke up, sitting on the toilet passed out with a belt around his arm. Mark knew he took another hit in the middle of the night, he still didn’t know who the hell wanted to have a hit at such ungodly hours.

The ginger woke Simon with a damp rag pressed into his clammy forehead. Mark was wiping away the sweat and, unknowingly, whatever tears Simon had cried. The blond looked at him in a daze and glanced around at his surroundings.

“Skag?”

“Skag.”

Simon sighed at the relief the damp rag brought him and pulled himself together, standing up and straightening his clothes. He was looking at the door, about to leave Renton high and dry.

“Ye oaf now?” Mark asked

The blond quickly turned around to look at Mark, who was just now pulling himself off of his knee. Simon was taken aback by Mark, he’d caught on? Mark knew he was being used? Maybe he really was smarter than Simon gave him credit for… Still Simon felt bad and he also felt a need to surprise.

“What? No. Ah wis gonnae ask fer coffee.”

Renton raised his eyebrows at Simon, “Aye? Ah’ll go put some oan.”

They drank coffee in the living room together, Simon clicking through channels as Mark lit a cigarette. Renton remarked to himself how domesticated the scene was and felt oddly comfortable with it. Simon ignored it. 

\----

Later they move to a pub, doing E together beforehand, and trying to talk to girls. Mark was doing piss poor as usual; although sometimes he’d portray himself as educated and it’d get him somewhere, no dice tonight though. Simon was working wonders as per usual, chatting up a redhead across the bar who wouldn’t shut up about Hollywood. 

Simon was playing with her hair and they were chatting up a storm. Mark knew Simon was just chatting shit, but it was still working. It was an odd sensation, when Mark felt jealousy racing through his body for the first time since he was elementary aged. He felt fear instantly following, which was also soon chased by defensiveness. He was trying, in vain, to justify what he just felt to himself, but he found he couldn’t. Why couldn’t he? Why was he jealous? He didn’t know. 

All Mark Renton knew was he needed to get the redheaded bitch out of the picture. He does a quick scan of the walls and finds no signs forbidding smoking - perfect! He lit a cigarette and approached them, coming up behind Simon and slinging an arm around his best friend. Mark gave an ugly smile to the redhead and introduced himself.

“Hello there, mah name’s Mark.”

The redhead looked grimly at Mark and gave a cautious smile, she coughed as she glanced at his cigarette. Simon gave Renton a look over his shoulder that screamed  _ ‘what the fuck are you doing please go away, you dumbass’. _ However, Mark peristed. He needed her to leave and he was going to make it happen.

“Could’ya put out that cigarette? I’m allergic.” She spoke in a cool American accent that made Mark even more restless to be rid of her. 

“Allergic tae what? Fags?” Mark asked snidely 

“‘Scuse me?!” She scoffed

Simon butted in this time, “He means cigarettes, Rebecca.”

“That yer name?” Mark asked

“Yah an’ I’m allergic to the smoke.” She added

Mark grinned and huffed out a chuckle, “Aye? Why? ’Re yer lungs fucked then?”

Rebecca scoffed and Simon was well looking at him now. His eyes wide in that expressive way they get when Mark fucks up bad.    
  


“Mark!” He exclaimed in a hushed but exasperated tone.

“What? Ah’m oanly askin’!” Mark exclaimed

Rebecca glared angrily at Mark, “My lungs ain’t fucked!”

Mark takes a long drag on his cigarette, then leans in and blows a huge cloud of smoke in Rebecca’s face - grinning all the while. 

“Ye’re allergic; ‘re ye deid noaw?” Mark asks before laughing evilly as Rebecca coughs.

The redhead stands, grabbing her purse and glaring at Mark. 

“I’ll have nuttin’ to do with you two bastards!” She exclaimed before storming off.

Mark grinned as he watched her leave, snuffing out the cigarette on a plate. Smoking, it always worked like a charm to get rid of foriegn birds - whom SickBoy loved dearly. Simon spun to glare directly at Mark, who he wanted to tackle to the ground and choke out. 

“What thae fuck did ye fuckin’ dae?!” Simon exclaimed 

“Didnae like her.” Mark shrugged

Simon narrowed his eyes at Mark, “Ye didnae even ken her name ‘til Ah said it.”

They locked eyes and Simon knew there was more to it than Mark being a snarky, unlikeable prick. He was never usually like that to people he didn’t know; Simon knew Mark long enough to know that.

“Yer flat, noaw.” Simon demanded

Mark nodded, “Aye.”

Both wanted to leave for different reasons but Simon wanted answers and whatever SickBoy wants, SickBoy gets.  _ By any means necessary.  _

The door to Mark’s flat shuts and they are alone again. Simon turns to face Mark, his expression calm but his eyes are wild with frustration. He didn’t like to be denied, he didn’t like to lose; Simon David WIlliamson was a winner, he put in the work and he got out what he pleased. His work and his time had just been wasted… And it was all Mark Renton’s fault. 

“Noaw, Mark, tell me the truth.” Simon sat on the couch, leg crossed and arms folded, as his wild eyes burned into Mark’s soul. 

Mark paused, “What?”

“Tell me the truth, Mark.” Simon demanded, “Why did yew run her off. Ah ken it wis oan purpose, dinnae lie tae me, Mark.”

Simon’s gaze got harsher and he sneered at the ever more scared form of Mark.

“Dinnae even try tae lie tae me.”

Mark bit his lip as he stood in front of Simon, feeling much smaller and weaker than he usually had. Simon’s attention on him was intimidating but he knew his friend would not pull away or lighten his gaze, he needed to get it done. He needed to tell the truth. 

“Ah didnae want ye wih her.”

Simon quirked a brow and loosened his crossed arms slightly, “Eh?”

“Ah didnae want ye tae fuck her, Si.” Mark spoke, his head bowing in guilt

‘Whit for?” Simon asked, brows scrunched in confusion

Mark chewed at his bottom lip, quietly admitting, “Ah wis jealous.”

“Jealous?” Simon repeated 

“Aye... Ah’ve waited, Si... Is no fair.” Mark said, “Ah’ve waited why does she-...” Mark paused.

He didn’t know how to say it without feeling a deep shame. How could he admit it out loud to the man who’d so deprived him? How could he admit his wants when he’s never been the one to start it? How could he say it all?

He knew why. He didn’t need to ask.

“Nevermind.” Mark spoke in defeated embarrassment.

Simon rises from the sofa, approaching Mark and slowly, carefully, rubbing the ginger’s arms. The wildness is gone from his eyes, replaced with an odd carefulness that Mark was cautiously happy to see. 

“Mark,” He started tenderly, bringing one hand to hold the man’s cheek, “Dinnae be embarrassed, we’re bezzy mates.”

He looked into Mark’s blue eyes, their noses inches from touching. Mark can’t resist the gaze, Simon’s dark, sparkling eyes refusing to be ignored. He gives in, it’s SickBoy holding him and coaxing out the truth. It’s always SickBoy getting his truth. 

“Jus tell us why ye did it, Mark.” Simon asked softly, “That’s all Ah wannae ken.”

“Ah wis jealous, Ah wanted yew fer masel.” Mark almost whispered, his hands shaking in nervousness.

Simon watches the blush creeping across Mark’s face as he admits it. Still, Simon wanted more answers.

“What dae ye mean?” He inquired

“You hardly ken her an’ ye were gonnae fuck her.” Mark stated, he looked away quickly as his blush darkens, “Ah’ve been waitin’ fer a while noaw, but..”

The blond’s eyebrows raise to the roof as he looks at Mark’s blushing face, which refused to meet his own. Simon couldn’t believe what he’d heard… Mark wanted to fuck him so bad he ran a bird off with cigarette smoke; Mark hardly had the courage to walk up to a bird on his own just to say ‘hi’ to her. 

“Ye ran oaf a burd ‘cause Ah huvnae shagged yew?”

Mark looked at the ground in shame, “Aye.”

There was silence for a long while, Simon staring Mark down with a face that spoke nowt of his emotions. The air was cold and Mark felt like the blond was inspecting his soul, as he shivered and hugged himself tightly.

“Mark, I like yew.” He spoke, his tone low and dangerous as he comes closer, “But ye cannae treat us like we’re goin’ oot ‘n that.”

Mark sighed and tightened his arms around himself, seeming very cold and uncomfortable.

“Ah ken that, Si…” He paused, “But Ah deserve a shag over her.” He said quietly,

“Ah’ll shag whoever Ah want, whenever Ah want, Mark.” Simon stated

Mark grimaced and decided to light a cigarette, to ease his nerves. He felt jealousy and anguish mixing in his stomach, burning him from the inside; this contrasted greatly with his outer appearance of coldness. He didn’t know how to convey his feelings to Simon, or if he even wanted to. 

“Aye, that’s fine.” Mark agreed, 

Simon looked the ginger up and down, “Ah’m doon tae Swanney’s, be back in an ‘oor... Ye want anythin’?”

Mark deeply inhaled his cigarette before blowing out a huge cloud and answering, “Wee bit ay’ skag.”

Simon nodded and put his jacket back on before running off. Mark resided to flopping down on his couch and bundling himself in a blanket.


	9. Mine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not Tommy’s, Not Franco’s, Not Spud’s, Not Swanney’s. 
> 
> Mine.

It was hours later when Mark awoke to the door opening. SickBoy emerged and shut the door behind him, walking over and tossing a bag on the coffee table. Mark looked up at the blond, his shirt was messily put on, his hair was tousled, and he seemed to be walking oddly. It had been three hours instead of one but Mark didn’t care to ask where or what he’d been doing; he knew it’d only make him feel worse.

“Goat ye sum skag ‘n a bit ay E.” Simon stated, pointing to the bag

Mark nodded, “Aye, ‘s nice ay ye.”

Mark sniffled and tightened the blanket around himself, the nap seemed to do nothing for him and he yawned again.

“Ah might turn in soon though, but…” Mark remarked, “Ah’m tired as shite.”

Simon nodded and sighed, “Aye, me tae.”

Mark pulls himself off the couch and drags his body to the bed; he knew his exhaustion was mainly mental, but it didn’t make him any more energized. He flopped down and covered himself with his blanket, curling himself into a ball on his side. Simon watched from afar before stripping off his shirt and quietly approaching Mark’s deflated form. 

The blond got into bed beside the ginger after taking off his boots, slipping an arm around the man’s slender waist and holding him. Mark tenses up slightly at the contact, very unsure of what that meant.

“Si?”

“Mm?”

“Whit’re ye daein’?”

“‘M sorry fer yellin’ at yew earlier.”

“Si…”

“Shut up, Mark.”

Renton did shut up, but he had a wide smile on his face that indicated victory. 

Mark felt Simon nuzzling against his neck and closed his eyes, letting out a sigh at the almost domestic scene of it. He often tended to reject commitment and domestic life, although that was just an act really; he couldn’t admit his real wants without having his masculinity questioned. 

Simon scented the man’s neck and sighed deeply, relaxing into the bed and slowly closing his eyes to rest. He’d never felt more comforted, the feeling reminding him of how it was with Alison before it all went to shit. Now he couldn’t think of that though, no, Mark calmed him; the scent of the man melted all the horrible memories off of his brain. 

They slept like that in Mark’s bed all night.

\----

There’s a pounding on the door and a voice shouting from the other end, it wakes up Mark first. The ginger’s eyes open hesitantly as he begins to make out the voice on the other side of the wall -- it was Tommy. 

“Mark! Let us in! It’s no good, mate, it’s no good!” He was basically wailing, Mark cringed.

The ginger got up slowly to not wake Simon, and opened the door to reveal a very disheveled and distressed Tommy. Mark hugged himself tightly as he looked at the mess his friend was. 

“Aye, what is it?” Mark asked begrudgingly 

Tommy sniffled, his eyes red and puffy from crying, “‘S Lizzy, man, she isnae happy wih is.”

Mark huffed, “When is she?”

“She kicked us oot, man, she willnae even let us get oor stuff.” Tommy said, starting to tear up.

He looked around panickedly, shaking, and on the verge of breaking down again. His messy blond hair a tangled mess, his clothes wrinkled and hastily thrown on. The more Mark looked at him, the more Mark wished he hadn’t seen him at all. 

“Ah’ve goat nowhere tae go! Ah cannae tell ma Maw, Rents.. AH CANNAE!” He was breaking down again.

Mark cringed and looked around outside of the hallway, making sure no one could see Tommy’s embarrassing scene. All the while, Tommy is babbling and wailing inconsolably, his words nothing but a jumbled, panicked mess. Renton patted his shoulder and tried his best not to throw Tommy down the stairs for being such a crybaby twat. 

“Come in Tommy, ye’re makin’ a fool ‘ay yersel’.” Renton remarked under his breath, dragging his friend inside and closing the door. 

The blond fell onto the couch in a whimpering mess, shaking, red, crying; never seeming to take a minute to even try and calm down. 

“Ah’m fuckin’ scared, Mark.” He finally managed out, while sniffling, “Ah cannae lose ‘er… Ah cannae be by maself…”

“Tommy, ye’re no by yersel, ye goat us; yer bezzy mates.” 

Tommy and Renton go on like this for an hour, until Tommy finally stops being hysterical and distracts himself with the television. Mark sighed in relief, pulling a half-smoked joint out of the ashtray and leaning back to finish smoking it. 

Mark hears movement and glances over to see Simon sitting up and rubbing his eyes. The bleach blond looks over at him and frowns as soon as he spots Tommy’s red face. Simon motions toward the kitchen and Mark nods, taking his coffee cup with him. Simon’s eyes go wide and his eyebrows furrow.

“What the hell is he daein’ here?!” Simon whisper-yells

“‘S fuckin’ Lizzy again. She’s kicked ‘em oot the hoose wih nothin’.” Mark explained

“Why the fuck’s ‘e gottae come here fer? Cannae he go somewhere else?” Simon protests

Mark sighed, “Ah dinnae fuckin’ ken, Si, ye think Ah want ‘em here? He’s fuckin annoyin’!” Mark whisper-yelled

The two quickly stop arguing as Tommy stumbles into the kitchen, looking pitiful.

“Reeents, can Ah have sum coffee?” He whines

Renton sighes, “Aye.”

Mark finishes up the coffee and as he goes to hand it to Tommy, Simon purposely bumps into the ginger, causing him to spill coffee on Tommy’s shirt. Renton quickly recovers and saves most of the coffee, setting it down on the table. 

“Ah’m sorry, Tommy, Si’s fat arse knocked us o’er.”

Tommy snickered, “‘S okay.”

“Ah kin wash yer shirt if yew want.” Mark offered

“Aye, that’d be great, Rents.”

Simon scowled as Tommy strips off his shirt and hands it to the ginger. A plan that he’d thought would work only made the situation worse. He scowled. He swore he saw Mark giving Tommy a one over with his shirt off, of course this wasn’t the case in actuality, but Simon’s mind said otherwise. 

The day presses on and Tommy grows bored of the TV, insisting they go out to drink and party. Simon and Mark begrudgingly agree, throwing on whatever they could find, and heading out. It was a cold day, as it usually was, dreary as hell and unpromising -- luckily the onset of nighttime hides the dreariness for the most part. 

The three spot Franco with a scared looking Spud at the bar and Simon curses as soon as he sees their psycho friend.

“Mark.” Simon grumbles, under his breath, in a warning tone

“Ah ken.” Mark grumbles back despairingly.

Before they can leave, however, Franco spots them and ushers them over. Tommy starts yapping away with Spud and Franco chimes in constantly, calling Lizzy and most women on planet Earth a bitch or a whore or a slut. Mark cringes visibly and tries to pretend he doesn’t exist at the moment, Simon notices and decides to try and save the conversation somewhat.

“Aye, but the world needs whoores n sluts, Franco.” Simon chides,

“Eh?” Franco quirks a bro

SickBoy leans forward a bit in anticipation, “Well, where would we be wihoot ‘em, eh? Sluts ‘n whoores dae the world some good. Wihoot sluts ‘n whoores ye just goat prudes ‘n thit an’ prudes dinnae want a ride, mate.”

“Ah fuckin’ well ken that, ye daft cunt! Who in their right minds would wannae go oot wih a whoore, but?! Aye one night stands, fine, but ye cannae make a bloody whoore a housewife!”

Simon sees the situation fizzling and tries to snuff it out instantly, Mark turns his attention away from it and lights a cigarette. He’s studying a group of college students, or who he perceives to be college students. He notes that most are wearing glasses and ordering nicer more expensive drinks, he huffs at the thought of where they must live. Of course they were upper middle class, they probably had two parents, a stable income, friends, a life, a job, maybe a car -- when your life isn’t full of skag there’s a lot of empty spaces to fill. Luckily for Mark, he didn’t need to fill those spaces and god help him if he did because fuck knows what he’d shove in there. 

Mark is suddenly ripped from his thoughts when a sudden outburst happens beside him and turns to see Tommy wailing again. It took the ginger a moment to process what was happening and then he spotted her from across the bar; Lizzy.

Even the sight of Lizzy made Tommy break down into a sobbing mess. Franco jumped up, pointing an accusing finger and shouting, ready for a brawl. Franco yanks Tommy and Spud with him across the bar to shout, scream, and cause a scene. Simon turns to Mark, looking annoyed and exhausted.

“Yer place, before they come back?” Simon inquired

“Aye.” Mark nodded

The ginger knew if he stayed any longer he’d get a headache, so they snuck out the back together and caught a cab to Mark’s flat. When they arrive they have to run inside because of the cold pouring rain, Simon cursing all the while.

Once they get inside the blond strips off his wet shirt and flings it somewhere beside the couch, still cursing. Mark takes off his shirt as well, plopping it in the ‘dirty’ pile and slipping on a long sleeve shirt he finds in his bed. 

“Ah dun care what he fuckin’ says, dinnae let that blond haired, blue-eyed cunt in this flat ever again!” Simon exclaimed

“He’s a mate, Si.” Mark protests

“A fuckin’ thorn in ma side is what he is!” Simon exclaimed

“Simon, ye cannae say that!” Mark was shocked

“Aw, aye, what ye want ‘em roond fer?” he paused, “Oh just a braw body tae look at, is that it?”

Mark perked up at that, not used to being accused of that sort of thing. He’d never thought much about Tommy like that, even while pleasuring the blond he wasn’t very interested in Tommy sexually… It was more of a favor -- something he did to make Tommy feel better. He knew it was wrong but he didn’t know how the fuck to comfort someone, it was easier to just suck them off. 

“Oh come oan, Si! It isnae like that, ye kin Ah’m no intae ‘em.”

“Yew…” He spoke through his teeth, “Blew his cock.” 

“Aw, aye, how else dae ye shut the fucker up?!” 

“Ah dunno, Rents, I could think ay a few things besides BLOWIN’ EE’S COCK!”

Renton stopped and realized the situation he was in. 

“Ye’re jealous.” Mark stated matter-of-factly

“I am no jealous!” Simon exclaimed defensively

“Ye’re jealous Ah sucked ‘is cock before yers.” Mark cracked a grin

Simon approached the ginger, his scowl never faltering and his eyes continuously staring into Renton’s blue eyes.

“If Ah wanted, yew would’ve sucked me off whenever Ah asked, Mark.” 

“Ye should’ve asked sooner.” he paused, “Mibbe then Ah wouldnae have sucked Tommy’s cock.”

They were staring each other down, eyes locked onto one another and glares never faltering. Simon takes a step forward, their noses brushing together as the blond closes his eyes, a deep hum welling in the back of his throat.

“Renton, Ah want yew on that bed, _now_.” His tone was low and dangerous.

Mark felt excitement building inside him and was about to question his authority, before catching a glimpse of the man unbuckling his belt. A memory flashes in Mark’s mind of the night he was brutally spanked on his oak table and opts to do as he’s told.

Once the ginger takes his place in bed, the blond approaches. Simon yanks Mark’s legs down to the end of the bed, hoisting them over his shoulders, holding the ginger’s hips and pressing his pelvis against Mark’s clothed ass. 

“We’re gunnae have a lot of fun, Rents.” Si grinned, “Hope ye’re ready.”

Mark goes flushed as Simon begins to unfasten his pants, they’d never gone this far before and Mark would be lying is he said he wasn’t nervous as fuck. When the pants come off Simon begins to stroke the ginger, grinning at how responsive he was.

“Ye’re much more interested this time.” Simon grinned

In reality it was just because Mark wasn’t full of skag yet and his sex drive was very much awake. Renton groaned at the attention, his hips bucking up in response to the lovely friction Simon gave. The blond sinks to his knees, licking long strokes from the base to the tip, dragging deep groans out of Mark’s throat. Simon’s own cock is becoming very interested, throbbing at the sound of pleasured moans filling the room. The blond soon takes Mark in his mouth and sucks in earnest, somehow doing a very very good job with his magical and ever-so-talented tongue. 

Mark’s head goes back, loud moans escaping him regardless of how hard he attempts to contain them, fisting the sheets as if his life depended on it. Simon notices his ever tensing body and decides to pull off before the ginger blows his load right then. He produces a lube package from his pocket, always carrying them ‘just in case’ and begins lubing his fingers. 

“‘S gonnae be a bit nippy, but ye get use tae it.” Simon said reassuringly, rubbing Mark’s leg

The first goes in no problem, the second proves to be a bit of a struggle before it finally slips in. Mark huffs closing his eyes and biting his bottom lip at the burning sensation in his ass, a quiet whimper escapes him and Simon kisses his leg soothingly. 

“Daein’ great, love.” SickBoy says comfortingly

The more Simon scissors, the less it continues to burn and Mark’s whimpers turn to whines and restless wiggling. The blond picks up on this, going a bit faster, watching the ginger buck and moan as the fingers sped up face. 

“Like it?” Simon inquired

Renton was still biting his bottom lip, “Mhm.” he nodded

Simon slowed down, “Oh? Ah dun think yew dae.”

“Simon.” Mark whined

“Dae ye like it, Mark? Ah’ll stop.” It was a threat more than anything

“Dunnae stop, Si, Please! Yer fingers ‘re braw!” Mark pleads

Simon grins widely and picks back up his pace, sending Mark’s toes curling harshly. The ginger erupts in moans as he feels his legs beginning to shake. It couldn’t get better, no fuckin way. 

The relief is all too soon revoked as Simon pulls his fingers from the whining Mark, sounding as if he’d been denied drugs by Swanney. The blond stands, unzipping his pants and shucking them down enough to release his cock, grinning at Mark. 

“Ye’re goin’ tae fuckin’ well get it, fer whinin’ at us.” SickBoy nearly growled as he lubed himself

The blond begins pressing into the ginger, Renton letting out a loud gasp as it pops it. Simon was all too pleased with that sound and began to push in the rest, Renton clenched his eyes shut and was biting his hand harshly to silence his pain. Simon groaned when he was to the hilt, the warmth surrounding him was much tighter than a pussy. SickBoy stayed that way for a moment, his pelvis flush against Mark’s ass, watching the ginger slowly open his eyes and let go of his hand -- there were bite marks already present on it.

“Rents, go easy oan yer hand.” Simon remarked

“‘S fuckin’ big.” Mark whimpered

After seeing the ginger loosen his posture, Simon gives an experimental thrust and earns a whimper. He goes again and begins setting up a slow but deep pace, pulling out a good bit before pushing back in. Mark groaned, he’d never felt such an oddly wonderful pleasure, he wondered if this is how women felt -- the women that fucked SickBoy, anyway. 

Simon pushes up the shirt Mark was wearing and begins flicking and pinching the ginger’s nipples, earning whimpers and moans as Mark arches his back from the sensation. The pace quickens as SickBoy notes Mark’s enthusiasm, earning even louder moans as he watches the smaller man begin to sweat. 

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Simon!” Mark moaned, his head going back as the blond continues to pick up pace.

He’s rutting into Mark hard now, his pelvis slapping against Mark’s ass as he drives it as deep as he can, making sure to hold the ginger’s legs up high. The tightness of Mark’s ass driving the blond to please in any way he can. 

“Ah dun care what yew did wih Tommy, Rents.” He glared down at the ginger.

His right hand quickly goes to Mark’s throat, closing around it and squeezing tightly, but not enough to cut off air completely. Simon wanted Mark awake for this.

“You’re fucking mine now.” Simon growled

Mark’s staring into Simon’s eyes and feeling his cock deep inside him, the hand around his throat making him ache for more. Finally, Simon had laid claim to him and he now knew the blond somewhat cared.

“Not Tommy’s, Not Franco’s, Not Spud’s, Not Swanney’s.” He enunciated every name with a harsh thrust,

Renton whimpered and shook, _fuck it felt so good._

“ _Mine._ ”

As Simon thrust that time he hit something inside Mark that made the ginger arch his back and moan like he never had before. The pleasure Mark felt was almost able to be felt through his voice, it was so _intense_.

The pride Simon felt in his chest as he heard the noise escaping his lover made him almost feral. Once he found that spot, he didn’t lose it, rutting fiercely and swiftly into the ginger and gaining all sorts of noises in approval. The sound filling Mark’s flat was obscene and his neighbors could definitely hear it, but at this point all Mark could conceive in his mind is the endless pleasure of having his g-spot assaulted by Simon David Williamson, his best fucking friend.

_And it was so fucking good_.

Simon leans down, hovering over the ginger on his left forearm while his free hand grabs Mark’s waist. 

“Ahn o-oh fuck ‘s deep.” Mark moaned as his legs are pushed up to his chest

The blond’s cock is so deep inside Renton he can almost feel it in his stomach, it hurts in an insanely good way, causing Mark’s legs to twitch and shake. Simon grins as he feels Mark begin to shake, knowing he’s getting closer and closer. 

Renton’s biting his arm fearsomely as he feels his orgasm about to rip through his body, his eyes shut tightly as he feels Simon’s hand move from his hip to his cock. Four strokes in and Mark’s cuming hot and plentiful over Simon’s hand, biting his arm so hard it begins to bleed. Simon groaned at the sight, lifting his hand to Mark’s mouth as he continued to thrust.

“Lick it off, Rents.” 

Mark obediently obeys, licking his cum off his friend’s hand and sucking his digits generously. The sight of Mark so willingly following orders and enjoying himself pushes Simon to his limit.

“Gah-! Nnnnn- fuck Mark.” Simon chokes out 

As soon as the words leave his lips he’s letting off inside Mark’s ass, his cum so plentiful it threatens to spill out the side. Mark moans quietly at the feeling of being full.

“‘S warm.” he whimpered.

Simon pulls out and sighs, covered in sweat, disheveled, with cheeks beet red. He glances down at Mark, on his back, shirt pushed up to his neck, bloody bite mark on his arm, and cum leaking out of his asshole. _Simon’s cum._

“Least ye kept oor shirt clean.”

“Yer shirt?” 

Mark looked down and noticed the nicer material and the lack of stains, it was probably designer. He hadn’t meant to put it on, he was just cold… _But it did smell good._

“Sorry, Si, Ah didnae mean tae steal it.”

“Dun worry, ye’re also mine.”

Mark grinned, “Aye.”

Simon slid his unbuckled belt out of his pants and approached the ginger, who quickly went from catching his breath and laying still to looking wide-eyed and shocked.

“What’s wrong, Rents?”

“Ah didnae dae anythin’, dun spank us, Si!”

“Ah’m not, Ah’m helpin’ yew.”

The blond rolls up Mark’s sleeve and fastens the belt around his arm, then turns to plunder the nightstand for gear he stashed in there. Simon cooks up a shot quickly and begins smacking up a vein in Mark’s arm. 

“Thank yew, Si, Ah need that.”

“Ah ken.” Simon replied, kissing Mark on his forehead. 

The vein comes up and the needle goes in and it’s _bliss_ again. Mark moans audibly as his head falls back, _the best feeling he’d ever had_ . This shit was _pure._ Simon watches, eyes sparkling with fascination at Renton’s wide open mouth, as his finger lightly traces Renton’s bottom lip. It feels so _good_ . It feels so _right._ Mark just knew, this couldn’t be wrong. 

  
Simon got his hit right after and fell to lay beside Mark in the bed, his shoes still on, and his pants still undone; it didn’t matter, nothing mattered when life was _this_ good.


	10. Mark and Simon's Flat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning Mark woke up alone. 

The next morning Mark woke up alone. 

He was still in Simon’s sweater and his ass ached awfully. He left no note and Mark felt his heart drop into his stomach. He felt like such an idiot for thinking it meant something to Simon. Why did he think Simon cared? Out of all people why would Simon, the man whore, give a fuck?

Renton took a shower, got dressed, and was off to work. Not a smile in sight. 

The day drags on to feel like weeks, the boss’s bitching didn’t exactly help either. Mark drags his feet the whole day, ready to go home and go to sleep forever…. Until he has to go to work again.

Mark gets back to his flat late that night, having to do overtime even though he begged not to. He soullessly opens the door and steps inside, shutting it swiftly and plopping himself on the couch with a grunt. Fuck today. Fuck tomorrow. Fuck this week. Fuck this month. Fuck this year. Fuck next year. Fuck every single year ever.

Just when things felt like they couldn’t get any worse the phone rings and it’s fucking Tommy. Mark tries at first, he really does, but he’s had it up to the fucking roof with Tommy’s whiny bullshit. 

“She-... She says she hates me.”

“Aye I probably would tae if ye cried at me all the fuckin’ time!”

“Rents?”

“Ah’m sorry, Tommy, but all ye’ve done is cry an’ bitch an’ complain an’ ye can fuck right off wih it the day ‘cause Ah am no in the mood fer this! Call Spud, or Franco, or Lizzy, or someone who fuckin cares!”

Renton slammed the phone down, panting and huffing.  _ Damn that felt good. _

“Rents?” A confused voice calls from behind

Mark quickly whips around to see Simon, standing there with two duffle bags, looking shocked. Mark is also shocked to see Simon, considering he thought the blond ditched him after getting a score. 

“Si, ye’re back… Ah thought ye left us.” Mark said, sounding a bit hurt,

“No wehy, Ah wis just oaf tae get ma bags.” Simon remarked

Mark looked at the duffle bags Simon dropped on the floor, then back the blond’s face.

“Ye’re movin’ in?”

“Aye.”

Time seems to stop, there was a moment where this information just hung in the air between them. The reaction was uncertain but it was soon to come and it was going to be defining. They smile at each other before Mark wraps his arms around Simon and they embrace. It was the beginning of a new relationship, imperfect in many ways, but beautiful regardless. 

It wasn’t just Mark’s Flat now, it was Mark and Simon’s Flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, junkie here! This is the final chapter to Mark's Flat and it's been an absolute pleasure to write and share with you all. I hope you enjoyed and I hope you continue to read some of my fics in the future! 
> 
> Love you all and best wishes.
> 
> \- junkie


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